Oh, that's not my blood
by xQueen Nothingx
Summary: Nina Dicentra is a practiced theif, perfectly content to build her own world from wine and skooma and stay there. Everything changes when she Joins the Dark Brotherhood and discovers that she cannot leave. (Lucian/OFC as Master/Submissive with some abuse)
1. Hell In A Bucket

A/N: I've gotten back into oblivion, so I had the urge to write something during the crisis. I actually wrote a few chapters a few years ago, and reworked them a bit. Enjoy!

Oh, that's not my blood.

Chapter 1: I'm going to hell in a bucket baby

The air was cool and helped diminish the oppressive stench of burning flesh. If I strained my ears the distant sounds of strangled cries could be made out, but just barely. Ashes circled in the wind and fell like snow, dying embers leaving small holes in the foliage. A smile worked its way across my face and a sense of accomplishment made my heart swell with what felt like pure pride. It felt fantastic, right, as if for the first time in my life I chose the correct path; even if the body count was a moderate sum.

Although, I reasoned, the whole place was damned to begin with. _And _he_ is dead._ A shiver ran down my spine and a thrill radiated all the way to my fingertips. _Freedom. I'm free, the air I breathe is my own and nobody can take it away._ I clutched the dagger that was my beloved companion and made my way farther into the forest, away from the wreckage that used to be my home. _No, not a home, _I thought,_ not by far._

It hadn't taken long before I came across a bandit camp and acquired a fine bow and a quiver of arrows along with some nice leather armor. The bandits were obviously inexperienced, and there was a nice little cave in which to toss the bodies when I was finished. _I am a changed woman_, I reminded myself, _the bandits would have killed me first. There will be no more innocent deaths._

_And when you run out of reasons to justify your acts?_ A calm, sultry voice echoed through my head, making me jump and scan the campsite for any possible threats. A quick patrol yielded no signs of life- not even a wolf.

"So, I'm already talking to myself?" I sighed, "Well, at any rate, I'm not going to make the same mistakes again. No matter what my hallucinations have to say."

For the past six years I have been locked away because of my skill in stealth, imprisoned by my own guild despite the riches I had brought upon them. And after years of being tamed, of being docile….well they should have listened to their mommies and daddies. Never try to tame a wild animal; the day will eventually come when they turn on you.

_Time to think in positive patterns,_ I told myself,_ You've escaped, now its time to rest and plan out the future. To plan out prosperity and….._and what? Friends, laughter, a house and a dog? A place to fit in? My gut plummeted sharply and with a cold certainty I knew I would be alone for the rest of my life. There's no such thing as a happy ending for someone like me.

Feeling fatigue finally wear me down, I stopped by a wayshrine of Dibella and made camp. Memories assaulted me as I curled further into the musty bedroll, and with a bad taste in my mouth I produced a small pink bottle from within my robes. I drank greedily as the familiar fog came in, seductive and warm. Drowsiness began to lower my eyelids and as the mists thickened I let them pull me under.

0*0*0*0*0*0*0*

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," A soft voice breathed in my ear, waking me from my dead sleep. I immediately sprang up reached out to pull the threat close, my dagger coming out to defend from whatever attack may come. In the process, I backed into a pillar and hit my head rather hard. Fighting past the tears of pain, I recalculated my stance and stood at the ready.

The man slipped away and chuckled lightly, expertly masked by an enchanted robe.

"Who are you?" I demanded in the surliest tone I could manage.

The man simply shook his head and put his own weapon away. "I apologize, Miss Dicentra, for any misunderstanding. My name is Lucien Lachance, and I come to you tonight without intent of harm," he explained in a calm and somewhat alluring tone of voice. He moved into the light, allowing me a glimpse of his face. Lucien LaChance proved to be a fairly attractive imperial, sporting dark brown eyes and hair the color of the midnight sky. His robes had more folds than I had earlier counted, leaving plenty of room for concealed weapons.

"And that proposition would be?" I prompted after a prolonged silence, not lowering my own blade.

"The Night Mother has been watching you, and is pleased by your actions. I come to offer you a chance to join our most unique family," he explained with great importance, but the weight of the matter was lost on me.

"Who is The Night Mother and why has she been watching me? Explain more about your, _'family', _and why they would be interested in someone like me," I demanded.

"Have you not heard of the Dark brotherhood? We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father, Sithis. We are family, with bonds forged in blood and death," he finished a bit breathlessly. It was glaringly obvious he felt intense love and passion for this 'brotherhood'.

"I tell you what; I'll join the brotherhood if you can overpower me in hand-to-hand combat," I offered with a smirk. At the very least, I could take his dagger and sell it in town.

"An interesting condition, in all my experiences as Speaker I can't say that I've run into this particular scenario. I accept," he purred, pulling his sleeves back and settling into a defensive stance. His eyes glinted dangerously in the liquid light of the moon, all anticipation and no fear.

I took a slightly different posture and aimed a small blow at the side of his neck to test his reflexes. Lightening fast and sharper than any I've ever encountered. _I might be in a bit over my head,_ I thought, though my smile betrayed me. I knew what was to come; a careful ballet of fluid movement that would set my soul on fire! The excitement nearly cost me the battle as Lucien's calculating eyes betrayed his next move.

He aimed a small kick to the back of my knee. I neatly dodged and returned with a quick elbow to his face. He spun around my body and came up behind me, attempting a headlock. Sensing this, I spun with him and came whirling away from his back.

"Good work," Lucien commented. We began to circle each other with predatory grace, drawing closer and closer before the next attack.

Lucien swung a kick to my side so fast that all I saw was a blur. Pain immediately erupted all over my torso, but I was still able to use the momentum to counter with a fist in his gut. He doubled over, only taking a second to catch his breath.

"Damn, you're good," I remarked, grasping his torso and lifting him into the air. With a dark laugh, I slammed the assassin to the ground.

He was too strong. Wrenching out of my grasp, Lucien wound a foot outside of my own and pushed me back into the packed dirt. I managed to knock him to the side after a moment of struggle and attempt a loose grapevine, but he was too quick. He rose to his knees and bent low over me, filling my vision with tanned skin and burning eyes.

"Go south of here until you find a swamp. There is a hermit dwelling there named Emmanuel. Kill him and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will appear to you bringing the love of your new family," he panted, voice thick with satisfaction, before letting me up.

"I give you my compliments, Mr. Lachance. What did Emmanuel do to warrant his death?" I asked, smoothing my clothes into a somewhat normal state.

"Rest assured that he is no innocent victim," Lucien replied politely, "I find your manners quite refreshing, Miss Dicentra."

"Please, call me Nina," I spoke quietly. I hadn't expected to lose, and now I had to hold up my end of the bargain. The air seemed to evaporate from my lungs as I watched the assassin blend into shadow. This was exactly the kind of thing I was trying to run away from, but here I was yet again.

0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0

The Night Mother lay still and shrunken in her ancient tomb beneath Bravil.

"Such deciet!"

There was a subtle creaking as her sarcophagus swung open to let out the moldering air within. An odd hissing sound began deep in The Night Mother's throat, growing louder as the seconds passed. Her voice filled the tomb, shaking the tables and knocking her offerings to the floor.

"Sssssssithis!"

The room went silent and a deadly chill settled into the still air. Moments later the hidden staircase descended into the chamber, letting in a fierce western wind. The moon shone brightly in the sky above, illuminating a short woman standing in the center of the room.

She walked with the utmost elegance, power radiating from every fiber of her being. Bare feet stepped onto the cool flagstone as she inhaled deeply the rich scents of the valley tide. Revelers stumbled past on every side, oblivious to her sudden entrance. This only made The Night Mother smile.

"The times have certainly changed, but the races will always remain the same."


	2. Old habits shouldn't die

IMPORTANT A/N: Boiche is a term the Bosmer use to describe themselves, seeing as they dislike the term 'wood elf'

Oh, that's not my blood.

Chapter 2: Old habits shouldn't die

"_Nina! Wait up!" Amora called from some distance back._

"_No way! I'm nearly there and the tournament is about to start," I called back to my dear friend, a large grin plastered on my face._

"_You won't be able to pull this off, you know. You get caught every time," she chided, easing my pace to a trot. She knew I loathed it when we were on opposing sides of an argument._

"_Thirtieth time is the charm." I winked at her and began running again._

"_If anyone catches you out in public you'll be thrown right back into that cell. You know what the deal is," she warned._

_I sighed into the wind, irritated that Amora would try to dampen my spirits. "If I hide my face and stick to the shadows I'm not confined to a one room existence. But what is the point if I can't have a little fun? They don't deny you your lessons and travel. They don't deny men their drink. So why deny me my calling? I haven't killed anyone since I was six, anyway, and that was by accident."_

"_Well, I'm sorry Nina, but you know the rules."_

"_To a violent and fiery hell with the rules. They should have thought of this when they had that_ thing_ put the enchantment on me that made me who I am." I panted angrily, barely able to control my temper. Amora just remained silent, not knowing what else to say._

"_But the enchantment is long gone," she finally whispered, a desperate plea into the wind._

"_Yes, but the skills it gave me will never fade. And I know peace only when….." I was close to a rage now. "And the blasted King and his people don't even know the full extent of my prowess; but one day they'll see. Even you, Amora. You always try to change me, find a glimmer of hope and latch onto it. But the time will come when you'll see me for what I truly am. I just hope you choose to stay."_

"_I hope so too," Amora replied darkly, tears streaming down her face, before turning around and running back into the direction of her home._

"_I'm sorry," I whispered back into the wind._

I awoke with an uneasy feeling resting heavily in my gut. _Is this what it's going to be like for the rest of my life? Memories haunting me every night?_ It had been years since I had seen Amora, she had married and moved to Elden Root to be with her husband and live a completely happy and blissful life. She deserved it, too. Amora was sweet and kind, loyal, and never malicious or manipulative.

At last I decided to crawl out of a nice comfortable bedroll under a small tent in the middle of nowhere. It was only a few miles hike until I spotted a small cottage with a cooking fire sending tendrils of smoke curling away on the gentle breeze. My target.

" What brings such a beautiful Bosmer to these parts?" Emmanuel asked when I trotted into sight.

"Why, I thought that would be obvious," I replied in a seductive tone, causing him to squint to get a better look at me.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" he asked, a foolish grin crossing his features, "That mer finally make good on his promise?"

"Perhaps nobody," I replied cryptically, "Perhaps the mer."

Emmanuel licked his cracked lips and began to approach, hands out in a welcoming gesture. I smiled, tilting my head so the moonlight would illuminate my face.

The man stopped dead in his tracks as recognition crossed his ugly features. "Divines have mercy..."

Thick crimson droplets fell onto the budding flowers below, staining the tender leaves which bowed under the weight of death. I smiled as Emmanuel's body fell limply to the side, the silver blade of my dagger glinting proudly.

Now the rest was a matter of patience. With a sigh, I grabbed Emmanuel's corpse under the arms and began to drag it along the sandy shore of the Larsius River. A warm breeze was blowing in like a fine perfume. In the distance I could hear the music of the Elsweyr Kajiiti, the tempo wild and fierce, conjuring images of frenzied dancing, drink, and the sweet taste of moon sugar.

The water was warm and refreshing as I slid my victim silently into the pulling current. His head bobbed lazily as his body was pummeled across the rocks, seeming to be nothing more than a rag-doll in a child's grasp. I watched him bob and weave, growing smaller and smaller, until he finally faded into the distant gloom.

"I'm back," I whispered into quiet of my surroundings, the revelation seeming to ignite within me.

0*0*0*0*0*0

The Night Mother stood proudly before her children, smiling graciously down into their humble faces. Her return was indeed grand; She had lived up to her reputation for style and grace. Clad in a tailored red silk dress, wore supple black boots that muffled the sound of her confident steps. When she strode across the room she looked like a fiery lioness. Her words held finality, power, and passion as she spoke wildly of a true restoration.

The four assembled members of the black hand turned as the footsteps of The Speaker drew near. Lucien LaChance entered the chamber proper, closing the door behind him and locking it up tight. He turned, almost slowly, and took in the image before him.

"Night Mother," he spoke, seeming to be frozen in place.

"Welcome, my son," The Night Mother purred, "There is much work to be done."

Lucien LaChance watched as the small woman seemed to glide across the room. He could see dark splotches on her dress where the blood of his dead family members had fallen as they were slain.

With a heart filled with love and joy, Lucien embraced The Unholy Matron.

0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0

The salty air of Bravil teased my face and lifted my hair in a cloud. It brought with it the scents of home; fish, alcohol, horse manure, and the tangy waters of the Nibenay. Voices lifted all around as the races mingled to commit various acts of debauchery.

"You're a long way from Valenwood, lass," a nord man whispered. He stepped directly in my path to halt my progress and fixed a deep scowl on his face.

Anger creased my brow as the fool breathed a foul stench upon my face. "You smell like piss and vomit."

"Is this man bothering you?" a thin, and somewhat attractive, Bosmer guard interjected. I smiled, knowing that I now had the upper hand.

"Did you know that this man has a problem with the Boiche?" I asked the man devilishly.

He turned on the Nord with a menacing stare. "Is that so?"

"Please, I didn't mean to start any trouble..." The man stammered, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. He wasn't so tough now that the city guard had gotten involved.

"Then go," the mer ordered, placing his hands on his hips. We both watched in amused silence as the man scampered towards the southeast corner of Bravil.

"It's nice to meet another Boiche. My name is Gwinas," the guard introduced, bowing slightly.

"Call me Syl," I replied, "Thank you for running off the drunk."

"It would be my pleasure. Say, what part of Valenwood are you from?"

"The wonderous Arenthia," I replied, rolling my eyes. Arenthia was close to the borders of Cyrodiil and Elsweyr and had become a hub of activity for Kajiiti caravans and Imperial traders. Those that could survive the forest without the blessing of Y'ffre, that is.

"Ah, my neighbor."

"I met a traveler on The Gold Road that brought disturbing news from Falinesti. It is true that the great tree has rooted? " I asked, furrowing my brow. Every child across Tamriel has heard of the legendary Falinesti and the roaming tree into which it was built.

"Yes. The elder's say it is because Y'ffre grows angry that we welcome so many into his sanctuary," Gwinas defended.

"Let us hope that isn't true."

"Gwinas!" a Breton guard called from his post at the gate. Gwinas glanced over his shoulder and gave me an apologetic smile that highlighted his cheekbones.

"I hope we meet again, my lady," he dismissed, placing a kiss upon my hand as if I were high ranking.

A smile worked its way across my lips as I watched him go, retuning his gesture with a coy wave.

The telltale sign of movement amongst shadow suddenly caught my full attention. Just yards away a cloak snapped in the wind as the owner rounded the corner of Silverhome On The Water. I recognized that garment - the man who wore it was Lucien Lachance.

My feet began moving instantly as I chased him down, knowing full well his Imperial blood was no match for a Bosmer. I caught sight of him passing by the Lucky Old Lady and sticking to the shadows with impeccable grace. Run as he may, I was still faster.

Like lightning I chased him through the revelry, the ghost of a shadow. The wind sank its fingers into my hair and howled in my ears as I cornered my prey. Stretching out my arm, I threw myself into him and slammed his body against a wooden wall.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

"Shit," I mumbled, taken aback. This man was not Lucien at all, just some common thief. Yet that cloak was unmistakable; it either belonged to Lucien or sprang from the same source. "Alright, kid, give me all you've got and the pretty cloak too."

"This will earn me a demotion for sure," the theif grumbled, producing gems and a small purse of gold from his pocket.

I took the precious materials roughly before giving him a vicious stare. "Give me the rest."

"Or else what?" he tested.

"Or else I'll kill you and send your body down the river," I growled, laying my hand on the hilt of my dagger and pressing in dangerously close.

The young man grimaced and fished around in his trousers before producing a considerably larger amount of coin.

I pocketed the sum and extracted Lucien's cape before sending the little rat back to his hole. My pockets jingled merrily as I made my way back down to the dock to rent a boat.

Hours later in the Nibenay bay I lay awake under a full blanket of stars. The slow current bobbed the small skiff and pulled against the tether, testing the surety of the rock below. A zephyr stirred the trees as the insects buzzed and hummed. Every now and then a wildcat would sound its call or an owl hoot softly from a distant branch. Breathing deeply, I wished that I could stay in this moment forever.

A distortion of light filled my vision and startled me enough to almost tip the boat. Gaining by balance, I watched as Lucien cast a dispel charm on himself and revealed his full image. He frowned and reached down to rub the fabric of the stolen cloak between his fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"It was confiscated from an Imperial thief," I shrugged, "Is it yours? I suspected as much."

"No, but it belongs to a member-or former member- of the black hand."

"Former member? Is there turmoil in the guild?" I probed, feeling as if I may want to reconsider. I had seen enough petty drama play out in the mage's guild and would not willingly repeat the mistake.

"We are not a guild," Lucien frowned, "We are a family, and I am proud to welcome you to it."

"I appreciate it, Lucian," I spoke guardedly, "But I'm afraid that you've been quite unclear as to what that entails."

Lucien laughed darkly. "What do you know about the Dread Father, Sithis?"

I paused and considered his words. "I understand that he is portrayed as a void, infinite and terrible. It was his blood that gave birth to the Daedra and the Aedra when mixed with his brother's."


	3. Luck Of Lucien

Not my blood

Chapter 3: Luck of Lucien

Willow Bank always had an irresistible charm with an appealing view of the river below, tucked away into the quiet corner of town. At night the insects and frogs rose with an insatiable tempo and in winter the frozen waters and grand ice displays seemed to emanate magic. This night the humid air gusted the tree tops as the ornate city lay dormant.

A fine Cyrodillic Brandy felt cool on my lips and tingled as it went down. The halls and walls of my estate seemed to be taking repose without any of the subtle creaks and groans I had become accustomed to.

I watched idly as a glimmer of movement revealed an odd shadow working its way in my direction. It worked seamlessly with the darkness surrounding it as it slipped past guards and citizens alike. The movements were too cat-like to be Lucien or a shadowscale which meant that it could only be the Night Mother. With a heavy sigh I set down my cup and started towards the back door.

"Night Mother," I greeted, standing back to allow the small woman inside.

"Nina," The Unholy Matron returned. She swept an elegant cloak from her shoulders and hung it on a chair by the fire.

"To whom, or what, do I owe the visit?" I asked, motioning The Night Mother up the stairs.

"You do not grovel like my other children," she remarked imperiously, lifting her skirts and placing a delicate hand on the stair rail.

"My mother always said it was unbecoming of a woman." I led her to the upstairs balcony and seated her at the decorated table. Turning, I made my way back to the end of the hall and cast a forlorn gaze towards the lazy waters.

"Your mother sounds like a wise woman." The Night Mother's soft voice ghosted over my shoulder as if she expected me to jump. She surveyed the small nook in which I had been resting before her gaze settled on a small bottle of Skooma poking its head innocently out of a satchel. "May I?"

"It goes down smoother with brandy."

The Night Mother poured herself a cocktail and sat sidesaddle on the ledge of the window. Her blonde hair flowed about her and the paleness of her skin lent her a phantom-like appearance. When she turned the angles of her face played coyly with the shadows and her smile seemed to suck in all the light around it. "You have done well, my child."

"You have not yet challenged me, Night Mother," I replied coolly. In truth, The Dark Brotherhood had proved irksome. The loot is lousy and the pay is low. As an experienced thief, I know a losing proposition when I see one.

"I can sense your doubts."

"What did you expect?" I asked, feeling irritation push past the lull of drink.

The small woman laughed into the wind and flaunted an amused stare over the rim of her cup. "I know that you are loyal, and for that you will be rewarded."

I cast a suspicious glance in the small space between us and took another sip of brandy. Something in the tone of her voice made me feel like a pawn about to be sent into battle.

"Be careful, Nina, lest your suspicions come true," The Night Mother warned.

I narrowed my eyes further and concentrated on feeling the cool tendrils of magicka that she had woven around me. Locking gazes with the ruthless leader of the Morag Tong, I severed the links one by one. "Night Mother, I have come a long way to fall prey to intimidation."

"I can still taste your fear," she hissed as she rose from the ledge and glared defiantly back into my eyes.

"It will not make my prison."

"It has been a long time since I have had a daughter so...interesting."

I leaned against the side of the open window and inhaled the musty scent of summer. Sporadic clouds obscured the stars and splattered fat droplets upon the sleeping town below. It now seemed for all the world like a large pasture of dutiful sheep that were completely oblivious to the wicked hand of The Master.

"What do you think of Antoinetta?"

I took a long sip of drink and contemplated her question. "I suppose she is alright. I enjoy training with her but find her leisurely company tiresome."

"Arquen?"

"I have grown fond of her."

"Vincente?"

"A delightful vampire."

"And Lucien?"

I paused and felt heat rise to my cheeks. "It frustrates me to no end that he can best me at every turn despite his obvious disadvantages."

The Night Mother chuckled and set her empty cup upon a small end table. "You are much like I was long ago in the green of my youth; except for the telltale arrogance of the Bosmer. You seem to forget that without your patron's blessing your entire race would be nothing but savage beasts."

"Yes, you are correct. Without Y'ffre we would run in frenzied packs and terrify the races. The Imperial City would crumble and monarchs across Tamriel would bar the doors of their castle," I drawled back, eyes narrowed dangerously, "There are many Bosmer in Valenwood."

"I have decided," The Night Mother spoke bemusedly, "You will be Lucien's."

My stomach turned and plummeted to my knees. A cooler gust of wind blew in at the right moment to break my frenzied thoughts. "What?"

"Lucien needs a silencer. Are you following me?"

"I am. It would be my honor, Night Mother," I spoke, kneeling humbly before her.

The clouds had thickened and cast us in a deep shadow, blessedly hiding the worry stamped across my features. I was starting to dislike the Brotherhood but Arquen made it apparent that leaving was not an option. As clever as I was, there was still no way to outrun an entire guild of trained assassins without invoking Y'ffre's anger.

"Just remember your place, dear child." The Night Mother rose from her seat and I trailed her to the back door. She pulled her velvet cowl about her face and turned to me one last time, "Meet with Lucien at Fort Farragut when the first rays of light shine over the horizon. I would hurry, if I were you."

I cursed inwardly as I gathered the belongings needed for the occasion. Old forts were filled with the undead, rats, and other dusty and wretched things. This made them ripe for the plucking-the average traveler is far too tentative to plunder the riches within.

The journey was short but the rain made it frustrating. Mud sucked and pulled at the supple boots issued to each new recruit. Water trickled down in the summer ruts, pooling in areas and making the journey uphill treacherous.

When I finally came into the crumbling ruin of the fort the rain had soaked me to the core. Howling winds forced me to wrestle with the rickety wooden door before it was finally pulled from its hinges and sent flying into the storm. A dim flickering of torchlight illuminated part of one hall in an almost welcoming gesture, save for the skeleton holding a dwarven battle axe.

Its head bobbed as it searched the area for an intruder. Crouching, I notched my bow knocked the axe from the creature's grasp. While the skeleton was staggered I sprang ahead and sent it scattering to the four winds with one well placed kick.

The clattering sound of bone on stone alerted me to at least three more skeletons making their way towards the commotion. It was unwise to meet them so I crouched low in the shadow and cast a chameleon spell to mask my presence. The stale air seemed to grow intolerably oppressive as dark suspicions crossed my mind.

Two skeletons and a dread zombie rounded the corner with feral enthusiasm. They rushed past my hiding spot and patrolled right up to the entrance to trace the door with eager hands. When the trio deemed the dungeon safe they seemed to simply shut down and stare at each other blankly. One skeleton made an odd coughing sound which earned a wet laugh from the zombie. The second skeleton seemed to take strong offense and raised the honed edge of his ebony mace to thoroughly demolish the zombie's rotting head.

_That was extremely strange..._ I left the chamber and felt just a bit unsettled as the zombie's crumbling face flashed before my eyes. Skeletons and zombies are, for the most part, mindless creatures. They are subject to the will of the one who raised them and can barely perform one given task. The interaction in the hallway seemed to indicate otherwise – unless a powerful necromancer was afoot.

My bowstring quivered when an open doorway revealed a dimly lit sitting area with smoldering wood in the fireplace. _This is the end of the line, or not..._

Relief flooded my veins as Lucien came into view. The infamous Mr. LaChance was bent over an alchemy lab and calmly tending a basket of apples. His movements were tender and loving as if he were a mother duck tending her brood. That unique cape flowed regally over his broad shoulders and caved at the nape of his back before arcing dramatically down to the floor. After a few moments he turned as if he sensed my presence and removed his cowl with gloved hands. A casual wave revealed my presence with a precisely placed dispel.

"Why have you come here, Sister?" he asked with a razor sharp undertone.

"I thought you would have known," I replied, standing fully and walking into the chamber proper.

"Explain yourself," Lucien demanded.

"The Night Mother herself came to bestow upon me a great honor. I am now your silencer, my Speaker," I replied calmly.

Lucien's face creased in an odd expression before a wide smile graced his lips. "Our Unholy Matron never fails to surprise me!" he exclaimed, "Sit, we have much to discuss."

A new tone of command laced his last statement and struck a chord of dread into my heart. "No thanks, I'm a bit wet from the rain."

Irritation briefly crossed Lucien's face before he took a good look at my dripping robes and let a devious smirk cross his lips. He rummaged in a dresser for a few minutes before producing a worn set of robes and handing them over. "Here, these will prove to be more comfortable than your current attire," he explained in an icy tone.

_Talos be damned!_ I cursed inwardly, gritting my teeth as Lucien pushed the clothing into my arms. A bitter taste pervaded my mouth as the Imperial had once again left me no other option than to do as he commanded.

Once out in the hallway I realized how truly soaked I had become. The fabric of my robes almost ripped as I fought to peel them off and shivered as a cold draft ghosted over my exposed skin. I held Lucien's robe before me and had to swallow hard to work up the courage to put it on. His scent wafted from the folds like an exotic spice and tickled my senses, making me all the more reluctant to put them on. _This _Imperial _will be the death of me..._

"I'm glad to see that they fit you well," Lucien greeted as I returned to his chambers.

I turned to Lucien and gave him a tired frown. "It feels like Sithis has only a fingertip in the Dark Brotherhood's pot. I don't like it."

"What?" the assassin chuckled as he pulled a chair out for me.

"You know what I'm talking about. We keep killing off all these stupid townsfolk and bandits. Do you really think that is what Sithis deserves?" I asked.

"And who would _you_ send to our Dark Lord?" Lucien asked curiously. He tilted his head back and poured me a flagon of wine to entice me to the table.

My eyes flickered downward and I sat hesitantly. "A noble, that messed up King of ours. What about the Hannibal Traven?"

"You would dare kill the Arch Mage?" Lucien asked breathlessly.

I looked into my Speaker's eyes and his excitement was plain to see. "Why not? It'll serve him right for pussyfooting around and letting his guild fall into shambles. He will have some good loot to bring back to the sanctuary as well."

"It will be difficult getting past his defenses."

I rolled my eyes, "No it won't."

Lucien cocked his brow, "You know the way in already?"

Now it was my turn to be puzzled. "Um, yeah. He was the one who sentenced me to rot away in a dingy cell and tasked the Black Horse Courier to deliver the news to all of Cyrodiil."

"Six years ago I was traveling in your native lands," Lucien explained.

"I will take you back there some day to see the real beauty of Y'ffre," I spoke softly, vivid images flashing before my eyes.

"Let us return to the task at hand. By now you know the concept of a Silencer," Lucien began, "but the true nature of your duties is not so easily captured."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"A silencer is more than a high end assassin," Lucien purred, "they are the speaker's second self."

"Are you sure that isn't a fancy word for servant?" I spoke hotly.

Lucien was across the table before I could blink. His hands gripped both of my shoulders and made sure that my vision was dominated by his livid visage. "Do not speak ill off the blessings Sithis has given you."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as Lucien knelt on the floor to speak with me at eye level.

"As my Silencer you will be my closest companion," he spoke reverently, "You will carry out the will of Sithis in the shadows by my side."

"Such a bond cannot be assigned, Lucien," I sighed, "every traveler knows as much."

"It does take work," the Imperial admitted, "which is why your training begins tomorrow."

"What kind of training?" I asked, slightly offended.

"Well, you'll need to learn how to handle a dagger better if you are to call yourself my Silencer."

"I call myself Nina," I replied haughtily. Indignation blocked out any fear I felt for the assassin as I rose from my seat and glared down into his cold eyes, "And I belong to myself."

Lucien stood and caressed the side of my cheek. I stood completely still as the soft leather of his glove sent goosebumps running over my skin. His fingertips coasted down my neck and traced the curve of my collarbone before grasping me firmly and applying pressure.

"Lucien! What the hell?" I choked, fighting as hard as I could against him.

Lucian forced me to my knees and allowed me a glimpse of the true fire in his eyes. "When Emmanuel took his last breath you sealed our sacred pact in blood. You are a child of Sithis above all else, but now you are also _mine_."


	4. Puking Sunrise

A/N: I usually don't put lyrics in my stories, but Metallica's song The Unforgiven II has sort of become the theme of Nina and Lucien. So, there might be a few lines from that song once or twice.

**Lay beside me, under wicked sky  
The black of day, dark of night, we share this paralyze  
The door cracks open, but there's no sun shining through**

Oh, that's not my blood!

Chapter 4: Puking Sunrise

"Shut up, Marie," I growled. The talkative woman seemed to have adopted a negative attitude towards me over the past week. Today she chose to corner me in the training room.

"Come on, Nina, don't you want to know?" she asked slyly, tilting her head to show off her lustrous blonde hair. A superior smirk played across her face to emphasize her point.

"No," I replied flatly. I fingered a curl of my own dark locks and playfully rubbed it against the side of my face; two could play at that game.

"I know the Night Mother has been sending you on missions with him," Antoinetta pressed on.

"Shut up." I began to clean my weapons and return them to their sheaths.

"But it may be important!"

"Shut. Up."

"And it _is_ interesting..."

My temper finally boiled over as I reached for the blade of woe. In a moment of anger, I beheaded a practice target and rounded on the damnable Breton. "Shut up already! Do you not realize that you are a grown woman?"

Antoinetta Marie closed her mouth and let the sawdust settle in the air. "I don't know how that has anything to do with it," she responded through pursed lips.

_Sithis, this woman is vacant..._ I raised my gloved hands up in frustration. "Marie, aren't you a bit old to be gossip-mongering?"

Antoinetta's eyes flashed wildly. "Stop calling me Marie."

"I thought that was what you preferred," I spoke through gritted teeth. Just five days ago she had insisted that I start using the nickname.

"Only my friends are allowed to call me that," Antoinetta quipped in response.

"What has gotten into you?" I asked incredulously.

"Real friends listen to one another. Now go, I can't stand the sight of you."

The woman's strange behavior had finally gone too far; I couldn't let her get away with speaking to me like her pet rat. I strode across the room and swiftly grabbed her by the hair. She screamed and fought my hands as I wrapped one arm around her neck and rested the tip of my dagger below her eye. "I don't care if you like me or not. You will treat me with respect or else you might find yourself living in the gutter once more."

"Night Mother!" Antoinetta cried, kicking wildly to break free.

_Nothing but a rat..._ Her plea for help only infuriated me as I squeezed her tighter so she was unable to speak again.

"What is going on here?" The Night Mother barged into the small room as if it were a grand hall. Her imperious stare raked over the two of us with a look of evident disapproval.

"Nina attacked and threatened me!" Antoinetta gasped as soon as I let her go.

"Nothing her sharp tongue didn't ask for," I muttered instinctively and immediately cringed. I knew better than to open my mouth prematurely in a situation like this.

The Night Mother clucked her tongue at us as Antoinetta slowly straightened her shrouded armor. "I don't care what happened. You both have better things to be doing-the Morag Tong will not rebuild itself."

"My sincere apologies, Unholy Matron." Antoinetta even went so far as to kneel. She eyed me sternly when I did not mimic her response and made sure The Night Mother noticed.

"You're right, Night Mother. I do have better things to do." _Like killing the Arch Mage. _I walked past the two women and straight out into the lazy Cheydinhal evening. My home was warm and welcoming with a merry fire crackling in the hearth.

_There shouldn't be a fire burning..._ I crouched down and felt the magic woven tightly into the fabric of Lucien's robe veil me in shadow. The bucket of water I kept by the door was in its place as usual and I used that to extinguish the flame and engulf the entire estate in a thick darkness.

I checked every nook and cranny and found no sign of an intruder. One lock had been picked but nothing seemed to be even the slightest bit out of place. I speculated that Antoinetta had set out to blackmail me.

The contents of my satchel were also intact. I removed the small pink bottle from an interior pocket and took a weary sip to calm my nerves.

_A snowy landscape sprawled out before me. Pines and furs covered the ground like a dense carpet and birds sounded their calls from far away. A trail of fresh blood lay in contrast to the peaceful scene and scattered into the gathering darkness._

"_Lucien?" I called, standing on my tip toes to shout as loud as I could. My feet began to move as I followed the trail of blood into a clearing. "Lucien!"_

_He was hurt badly and still losing blood. The crimson liquid pooled around him and melted through to the brown grass underneath to form a warm cushion for his bruised body. He gasped and looked straight into my eyes._

_I ran to him and pressed my hands over his wounds to stem the flow. "Its okay," I soothed, smoothing his hair back from his face and taking note of a fever._

_Snow was falling all around me before I had time to react. Dead weight began to cement my legs in place and climb up my body at a startling pace. "Lucien!" I shouted in vain. All I could see was white as the avalanche claimed me as its own. I tried fiercely to wiggle my arms but the snow only shifted and locked them in place. "Lucien!" My scream was deafening to my own ears. I slowly became conscious that I was running out of air as the world started to fade to black. My life flashed before my eyes._

_'Is this really how it ends?'_

Warm air gusted over my body as the furnishings of the manor came into view and I became aware that I was grasping my throat and holding a hand outstretched in front of me.

"Oh, shit..." I muttered, checking the rate of my heart. I felt sick as I tried to work out exactly what that dream had meant. The vivid image of our mutual demise seemed to be on repeat and adrenaline continued to circulate through my system.

"Having a nightmare?" Lucien's voice was smooth and cold like the surface of water before it freezes.

His image caused mixed feelings to rise in my throat and steal my voice away. I stared into his dark eyes for minutes and was unable to process any sort of response. I felt as if I could still feel the snow all around me, feel my lungs burn. The edges of my vision started to fade as I recalled the illusion of dying.

"Why are you sneaking into my house so close to dawn?"

Lucien came closer and sat on the bed beside me. He angled his body so I would slide closer to him and traced my cheek with one gloved finger, veiling his eyes in the shadow of his cowl. His lips looked very serious yet his touch was gentle as he brushed through one of my dark curls. "Tell me the truth. I will know if you lie," he breathed.

My first instinct was to recoil but I could only be happy that he was alive. I closed my eyes and savored the heat of his palm against my face. His gloves were well worn and as soft as velvet but did not hide the strength of his fingers. "I just realized that I will be sad if you die."

Lucien looked at me in a different way than he ever had before. It appeared to be a mixture of affection and concentration. He removed his robe and the light of the sun caught the gold embroidery upon the sleeve of tunic when he reached out to worry the hem of my robe.

I rose from the bed and ran shaking fingers through my hair. Lucien raised a brow as I uncorked a bottle of skooma and took a large swig-this situation was too much to handle in the morning. _What is wrong with me?_I had spend the last two weeks loathing the man for keeping me shackled to the brotherhood yet I couldn't help but remember our budding friendship during my first month in the sanctuary.

"The Night Mother has given us as a task in Leyawiin," Lucien spoke, pulling me from my thoughts, "We leave as soon as we are finished here."

"Why do you always give such short notice?" I complained and narrowed my eyes at the smug Imperial. Leyawiin was quite a journey for which I would like to be better prepared.

"You will do as I ask," Lucien explained flatly.

"Don't push my limits, assassin, I'm not willing to be someone's dog."

"You are not a dog!" Lucien growled. He rose from the bed and joined me by the window. "You are my cherished companion and I will take good care of you."

"I don't need to be _taken care of_. If you haven't noticed, I've been doing just fine on my own," I replied. His words caused a strange feeling to grow in my stomach and send breakfast flying all over the city below. Ah, yes, the birds were singing, the grass was growing, and a woman was spraying vomit from a second story window. Nothing quite like a sunrise in Cheydinhal.

"You don't look fine to me," Lucien pointed out.

"So what are you going to do to take care of me? Do you know why I puked?" I defended.

"I have a few guesses," Lucien spoke. He took a few steps towards my skooma bottle but I shot out to intercept him.

"Don't touch that. I know exactly what is wrong with me, no guessing involved. I had three bottles of wine before I began training and was continually irritated through the night. Then I had nightmares and now I'm being harassed by an Imperial at sunrise when I should be sleeping. So it seems you're doing the opposite of taking care of me, Lucien," I ranted. I could feel the swirl of anger turn into another sick feeling and quickly took a sip of skooma. The sensation left as soon as my body absorbed the creamy liquid.

"We must leave soon," Lucien reminded politely. He stepped forward to trace my jaw with his bare hand. His skin was rough and callused against my own and burned like fire. "You will get used to me, in time."

I leaned into his touch despite myself and closed my eyes. Tears threatened to bubble up as his gentle caress caused a well of conflicting emotions to strangle my heart. I felt like I was being a traitor to myself for allowing this situation to occur. Perhaps it was my age beginning to show; I would have killed Lucien-consequences be damned-in the days before prison. "This is also a two way path," I finally managed.

"I know." Lucien fully embraced me now and began to stroke my long hair.

"Your actions speak otherwise." I stood very still, unsure of his touch. It was comforting yet frightening all at the same time. _How many woman has he held like this before he killed them?_

"What can I do when you rebel against my every directive?" Lucien's tone was gentle and pacifying, even a little hurt. When I studied his face it held tenderness and daggers all at the same time.

"You ask too much, my Speaker, and I am afraid that I cannot give it to you." I bit my lip and paced to the door, "I should start packing my things."

Lucien moved to the bed and cast me a pitying glance that almost broke my heart. "Lay beside me," he commanded.

My throat almost closed as the salty taste of tears made its way into my mouth. I wanted to run away but my feet turned and slowly brought me closer to him. He began to stroke my face again when we locked gazes. "You are such a wounded creature, unable to break past your own walls. But I will free you from your prison."

"You're wrong." The lie felt raw and unnatural against my lips and hung in the air like stale linen but I was too stunned to manage anything else.

"Am I?" Lucien pressed. His fingers traced the curve of my neck and began to play with my collarbone.

"I think you're just lonely," I defended, pushing his hand away and staring into the now pained depths of his eyes. I instantly regretted the rejection and placed a shaking hand over his heart. It was beating just as fast as my own.

"We both are but that can change," he breathed, catching my hand and sucking delicately on the tip of my pointer finger.

I cast a despairing glance at my bottle of skooma as tears finally flooded to the surface and fell silently into the sheets. I felt shaken to the core; in all my long years nobody had cut me to the bone like Lucien just did. Ghosts of our dark secrets thickened the air and seemed as if they would drown us where we lay.

His embrace was fierce and unexpected. Lucien held me tightly as if I were sand that could slip through his fingers in the blink of an eye.

The sunlight brightened and brought us back to reality. I got up and took another swig of skooma before glancing down to see how much havoc my puke was causing during the first bustle of the day.

_One hell of a morning._


End file.
